"Good morning!"

  Aytin stepped up to the desk in the free traders guild hall. There were plenty of other dragonettes moving about. Dragon crew, merchants, guild staff, and the like. But they all seemed to know where they were going. At least, there wasn't any line for the receptionist.

  The female in question looked up from some sort of paperwork and gave him a once over. Evidently satisfied with what she saw, she gave him a wide smile. "What can I do for you...?"

  "I'm Aytin Luffin."

  She nodded. "I am Nazerine." The dragonette spoke with the formality of the capital elite as she asked," What can I do for you Master Luffin?"

  "I came in with Vesper and Zegel yesterday, and I needed to arrange to get some luggage sent to where I'm staying."

  "Ah." Her smile turned a touch fixed. "You'll want to go to the warehouse across from the landing field. I'm afraid I can't help with that here." She gave an apologetic shrug and started to turn back to her work.

  "I also needed to speak to a trademaster."

  The receptionist paused before looking up again, one eyeridge raised. "Do you have an appointment?"

  "Afraid not. Like I said, I just flew in yesterday."

  "Unfortunately, the trademasters are quite busy, so it may take a few days to find an opening." She reached down to pull a fresh sheet of paper from the desk and picked up another of those odd wooden writing implements he had seen at the tailor's. "What will be the subject of your meeting?"

  "Faelon."

  Her eyes narrowed as she looked off into the distance as if trying to remember something. Then they widened and her ears perked.

  "You know what happened to him?" She had the guarded expression of someone who knew bad news was coming but still held out hope.

  Aytin nodded. "He's alive. Missing a few pieces, but still there."

  "And Reed and the rest of the crew?"

  This time Aytin shook his head.

  "I... I see. May Lotek welcome their souls..." The hope that had been growing in her eyes faded somewhat. "We were worried when they never returned in the autumn. And then there was the report of a brigand attack, but there were no details, so we thought that maybe..." She gave a sigh. "You said Faelon is missing a few pieces? Is that why he is not here himself?"

  "He lost a wing in the attack."

  The receptionist winced and looked away. Aytin could sympathize.

  "We had a rough time of it, but we survived. And after the winter, I managed to get a ride back here with Vesper and Zegel."

  She frowned slightly. "They never said anything about that."

  "I asked them to wait. I was there and I wanted... I needed to do this myself."

  The crew had all sworn not to say anything until Aytin had a chance to speak to a few people, but this was the sort of rumor that no one short of the inquisition could quash. It was why, despite the late night with Uncle Cork and his family, he had risen early.

  Thankfully, Nazerine seemed to understand. "Wait here. I'll be back in a moment."

  She rose and hurried out through a hallway. A few passersby glanced between her and the young dragonette left standing awkwardly at the desk. None of them seemed to have time to chat, a fact which he was grateful for.

  The previous night's reunion hadn't been quite what he had expected. Well, that wasn't fair. There had been tears of joy and crushing hugs all around. Cork had produced a bottle of some very nice wine to go with the not-quite-feast that his mate Shina had put together on almost no notice, and they had shared stories until well after sunset.

  His uncle had shared the one letter from the keep that had arrived since the fall. It was brief, almost devoid of emotion, mostly dealing with the financial state of the family. The only mention of his kidnapping had been a single paragraph:

  "Word arrived from a group claiming to have captured your nephew, Aytin. The evidence they provided appears conclusive. However, we lacked the funds to meet their demands or the forces to hunt them down."

  That was it. Everything his mother had to say about his supposed death. A few lines about not being able to afford his return. In hindsight, it was what he should have expected, but he had hoped it might be different.

  Worse, there seemed to be an expectation that he would be returning to the path that had been laid out for him the year before. Cork seemed to treat it like a given that Aytin would be stepping in as his protege. He meant well enough, but he apparently took after his sister.

  His uncle was already talking about all the plans he had for the young dragonette. Sitting in on trade negotiations, working with the mining guild, helping to deal with the books, maybe attending a party or two. After a bit of rest, of course.

  "Master Luffin?"

  Aytin was shaken out of his thoughts by Nazerine's return. She looked a little frazzled and there was a slight catch to her voice that made it sound like she had been running.

  "I am afraid that all of the trademasters truly are busy," she apologized. "You must be aware of how chaotic things have been recently."

  "I know that Vesper and Zegel were weeks late to Lazon's Rest, and they were saying that something had changed with the usual trade routes. Something about darkling attacks?"

  "Quite. They are attempting to straighten out the mess that has developed over the last year. But Trademaster Raleigh made some time this afternoon to speak with you. Would two hours past noon be convenient for you?"

  Her tone made it clear that the question was just a formality.

  "That would be fine."

  "Very good. Until then, the guild has a crew lounge and cantina on the premises. We would be happy to extend their hospitality to you while you wait."

  It was tempting. He hadn't gotten much sleep and only some bread and cheese for breakfast. Aytin still shook his head.

  "Actually, there was one other thing I hoped you could help me with in the meantime." There was no way around his next task, regardless of how much he wished there was. He took a deep breath and asked, "Do you know where I could find a retired trader named Ivy? She was Faelon's former partner."

  "Ah, yes." The receptionist's polite smile faded away. "Yes, I can see why you would want to see her." She opened her desk and pulled out a large book, paging through it until coming to the appropriate entry. "I can give you directions to her family estate, but you'll likely have more luck at The Spire."

  His cocked head and frown made it clear that the name meant nothing to him, so Nazerine elaborated. "That would be a social club not far from the city center. Most of the trademasters and many retired traders are members. I recall that Ivy has been spending most of her time there recently."

  "Then I'll try there first. Can you give me directions?"

  She did just that, along with handing him a wax sealed letter of introduction. It was apparently the sort of place you couldn't just fly into.

  Aytin left the guild hall and took to the skies, turning towards the city center. The free traders kept their headquarters out on the periphery of the capital, near a number of warehouses and a large field for dragons to land at. His destination would have been quite the trek on foot. By wing, it hardly took any time at all. Yet the journey still seemed to drag as he couldn't help but dread the upcoming conversation.

  The Spire lived up to its name. It occupied the top three floors of one of the tallest buildings in the city. Various specialty shops and businesses filled the other five levels. Given the proximity to the Royal Palace and the general opulence of the area, they had to be some of the more exclusive places in the city.

  That was confirmed when he was met by a pair of employees as he landed on the roof. Both were immaculately dressed from head to talon in pure white uniforms with silver trim. Both smiled warmly as he approached. But while the male looked like he had never lifted anything heavier than a fork full of steak, the female behind him practically bulged out of her uniform. She was so muscled that she might well be able to wrestle a dragon to a standstill. A young one, at least.

  "I'm here to meet with someone," Aytin said. "Is there an Ivy here?"

  The male stopped a half step forward and answered in an obsequious tone. "Ah, well, I am afraid that I cannot comment on whether one of our members may or may not be present. Certainly not to someone who I do not believe has ever visited our establishment." His smile and expression remained impeccable, but somehow a hint of condescension shone through.

  "Could you deliver a message for me? Or make sure she receives it the next time she comes here?" Aytin extended the folded paper, making sure that the stamp bearing the free traders guild seal was visible.

  With a sniff, he took the proffered letter. "If you will just wait here?" The host opened a door and stepped down a flight of stairs hidden beyond.

  Once the door clicked shut, the guard's smile became just a little more genuine. Her posture relaxed as she leaned against the door and eyed him up and down.

  "Been through it, have you?"

  "Uh, yeah." Aytin ruffled his wings self-consciously.

  Her wings had their own shiny scars. Nothing like the crippling slashes he had. Probably from arrows or crossbow bolts. Those and the faint streak across one cheek spoke volumes about her qualifications.

  "Little young for it. And you don't look like guard material, if you'll excuse me for sayin' so."

  "It was brigands out on the frontier."

  "Ah." She nodded knowingly. "Still, you're here, so take it they got what was coming to them?"

  "Every one of them."

  Her mouth split in an evil grin. "Good. Dealt with a few nests of brigands back when I flew on Negaria's crew. Nasty fucking business."

  "You were on a dragon crew? In the royal guard."

  "Yep. Know I don't look it, but those fancy officers need someone to do their work for 'em." She shifted and the seams in her uniform almost seemed to creak from the muscles they were straining to contain. "Still do their work for 'em, but now they pay what I'm worth."

  Aytin chuckled at the joke, but further conversation was cut off by footsteps from below. The guard straightened to attention just as the host from earlier emerged onto the roof.

  "Ivy has agreed to see you." He made it sound like he was doing the young dragonette a great favor as he waved towards the stairway before preceding him down.

  As Aytin passed, the guard gave him a conspiratorial smile and flick of the ear. Then he was through the door and headed down a well lit passage lined with lacquered wood paneling. At the base of the stairs was a golden-rimmed ceramic basin set on a pedestal. Another staff member stood nearby, this one with an ornate looking sword prominent on her belt.

  The host stopped there. "If you would, please?" He gestured towards the basin.

  Aytin frowned. "What exactly is this for?"

  "Your hands, of course." Then, as if to a hatchling, he explained, "With the recent attacks, many of our members feel safer knowing that none who enter are hiding the taint of corruption. Of course I cannot imagine any member or their guest succumbing to the forces of the dark, but these are troubled times, you understand?"

  "Right." It seemed ridiculous, but not worth arguing about. Aytin dipped his hands in the water and scrubbed for a moment. He held them up, showing nothing but white, dripping hide. A small towel was offered, and he used it to wipe away the lingering drops.

  With that out of the way, he was led along the hall and into a large, luxuriously appointed room. Windows covered one wall, providing a view across half of the capital. The far left side of the room was dominated by a rack of various wines and liquors bracketed by a pair of kegs. Opposite sat a bookshelf with a collection larger than the one in the Luffin family study.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Fireplaces flanked the door, each with modest blazes going. Upholstered chairs and padded stools were clustered around them, with more furniture scattered in clusters about the room.

  There weren't many patrons at the moment. Only five were visible, in fact. Aytin's guide led him towards a lone dragonette, sitting just in front of one of the fires.

  She was old. Ancient, really. Silvered with age, and the tips of her horns had faded to just the palest shade of blue. Her dress wasn't anything special. No real finery, and her only jewelry appeared to be in the form of a pair of silver or maybe platinum earrings. She held a steaming cup in one hand, and it shook slightly as she raised it to her mouth to take a sip.

  As they approached, she glanced their way and her eyes narrowed. She set the cup down on a nearby table and faced them.

  "This is the one with the letter, Jezrel?"

  Old, Ivy might be, but her voice was still strong. The male bowed more than nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

  "Very good. You may go."

  With another bow, Jezrel retreated, closing the door softly behind him.

  That left Aytin effectively alone with the retired trader. She gave him a hard look, one that Matriarch Vozdi would have envied.

  "So, tell me," she began without preamble. "Why is it that Nazerine at the guild was so insistent that I should meet you?"

  He took a deep breath. "I'm Aytin Luffin. I was... I was with Reed. In the end."

  Her face remained absolutely motionless, but something about her changed. Her presence seemed to shrink. Not broken, but condensed. And all of it focused on the dragonette standing before her.

  "Tell me everything."

  So he did exactly that.

  He told her about leaving home with Reed and Faelon. About his time with the crew. Their journey to the edge of the frontier. And the ambush.

  "Reed killed one of them. Their leader, I'm pretty sure. And Bush, he cut one up pretty bad. But there were so many of them and Faelon was already hurt bad and starting to fall out of the sky and..."

  He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth at the memory. At how he had just stood there and watched while the brigands cut down his friends, one by one.

  By that point a handful of other dragonettes had wandered over. An elderly male pocked with scars asked, "So what happened to the traitor? This Xantha? Did she escape?"

  "She's dead. We killed her. Her and the rest of them."

  A growl of approval went up from the group before another asked, "Who exactly is 'We?'"

  Which led to Aytin telling them about his time on the island. As a captive, then later a crippled escapee. There was quite a bit of commiseration when he got to Faelon's survival and his broken wing. By that point it was clear that many of the growing crowd of listeners were either retired traders or military. Both groups worked closely with dragons, and neither profession was exactly safe.

  He was vague when it came to the wildling motivations. The last thing he wanted was rumors of dragon worship making their way to the church or inquisition. A handful of the audience might have still read between the lines. If so, they stayed quiet.

  It felt like talking about the assault on the ruins took longer than the battle itself. Some of his listeners were apparently veterans and their questions were pointed. Training, weapons, tactics, communications. Why hadn't he been more cautious and ambushed smaller groups? Or been bolder and attacked as a single force? And had he just considered that...?

  'I never claimed to be a soldier!' he wanted to scream. And Faelon had been a trader for longer than most of the crowd had been alive. 'We did the best we could with what we had!'

  At least they eventually seemed to accept that what had happened was already past, and the questions tapered off enough for Aytin to finally reach the end of his tale.

  "And so I managed to slash her wrists and break free. And she couldn't fly with an arrow in her back, so..." He trailed off with a shrug. Not the most eloquent ending, but he wasn't a storyteller any more than he was a soldier.

  He suddenly realized that the room had completely filled during the course of his tale. Every chair had been dragged over and occupied, with more dragonettes standing or leaning against the ornate furniture.

  Quiet murmurs rose in volume as he took a sip of water from the cup that one of the staff had set out for him. Friends and colleagues turned to each other, while a few started asking more questions.

  All but one.

  Throughout it all, Ivy had been silent. Watching and listening.

  Now she rose, and the crowd quieted once more. Legs moved stiffly beneath her as she strode towards Aytin. Stooped as the old trader was, they stood eye to eye as she gripped him by the shoulder.

  "Thank you," she said, voice rasping with emotion.

  Aytin shook his head. "But I didn't-"

  "Yes you did." Ivy's voice had turned resolute. There were still tears in her eyes and a catch to her breath, but she never waivered.

  "You did all you could. And then you did more. The months of silence... And then hearing there had been an attack. But no one knew anything. And no one could do anything. Until you arrived. And you came here, in person."

  Her hands squeezed hard enough to bruise, but Aytin didn't move.

  "It means more to me than you can imagine."

  "I... I only wish I could have done more." Aytin's own voice cracked a little, but Ivy only gave a small shake of her head and a tight smile.

  "I know you do. And I wish it, too. But I don't think even the gods could have asked more of you."

  Aytin wanted to argue, but something about the expression on the old dragonette's face told him it would be futile. After a moment, he settled for a small nod.

  Ivy wasn't done yet. "And thank you for taking care of Faelon." The hint of a smile on her face faded, and her ears drooped. "He's had a hard life. Only harder now, I fear."

  "I'm hoping to help with that. It's why I'm here. In the city." He glanced out the window and winced. He could just catch a glimpse of the sun high in the sky. "I'm actually supposed to be meeting with Trademaster Raleigh pretty soon about it. If I'm not already late."

  He made a move towards the exit but stopped as Ivy kept her grip on him.

  "You will come back." It was an order, not a request.

  "I'll come back," he agreed.

  "Good." Ivy released him, then sank back into her chair. "Be sure that you do."

  The crowd was thick, but it parted as Aytin hurried for the door. Then down the hall, up the stairs, and back into the open air. He got a nod from the guard, which he barely acknowledged before diving off the side of the tower and taking to the skies.

  Scattered clouds had blown in, and the horizon was darkening with what might be a late spring front. At least the wind at his back sped his return to the free traders guild at the edge of the city.

  Aytin still pushed himself and he was distinctly out of breath as he rushed into the hall. The same receptionist as before was sitting behind her desk as he arrived and gave him a slightly disapproving look.

  "You're nearly late."

  "But I'm not, right?"

  Nazerine gave a small frown and a shake of the head, but her eyes made her displeasure clear as she pointed back along the hallway. "He is ready for you now. Take the third door on your right."

  Making his way to the indicated room, he confirmed that the plaque on the door read "Trademaster Raleigh" before knocking.

  "Enter!"

  The command wasn't unfriendly, although there was a hint of impatience to it. Without pausing, Aytin grasped the knob and stepped inside.

  He was greeted by an older male sitting behind a neatly arranged desk, head angled slightly to one side. Translucent glass windows behind him let sunlight pool across stacks of papers and the handful of mementoes.

  "You're Aytin Luffin?"

  "Yes. Trademaster Raleigh?"

  The hint of a question was ignored. "Close the door and take a seat."

  He did just that, settling into a sturdy wooden chair provided for just that purpose. When he looked back up, the trademaster had turned to face him and Aytin had to work hard not to stare.

  The attempt evidently wasn't as successful as he had hoped, because one of Raleigh's ears twitched. Only one. The other was missing completely, along with a chunk of horn and presumably the eye as well. A blue, silken patch covered the space it should have been.

  "I couldn't stop fast enough, so the ground did it for me," he said, voice dry but with a hint of amusement lurking in the background.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

  Raleigh waved it away. "It's fine, I'm used to it." Judging by the age of the scars, a number of years must have passed since the injury occurred.

  His gaze suddenly turned serious and Aytin struggled not to shrink under its weight. The trademaster might have lost an eye, but the remaining one more than made up for it.

  "Nazerine said that you knew what happened to Faelon and Reed last autumn? How?"

  "I was there. I was with him for most of it."

  Trademaster Raleigh gave a nod, then pulled a sheet of paper out of his desk along with one of those new writing implements. Unknowingly echoing Ivy, he ordered, "Tell me."

  "It's a very long story."

  "And I cleared my afternoon for this meeting. So start from the beginning. Tell me everything."

  Once again, Aytin found himself recounting the story of the last two seasons. He was starting to get a lot of practice at it. This time his audience didn't ask much in the way of leading questions, although every once in a while the trademaster would ask for clarification. It went a lot faster than his retelling at the club.

  'I'm probably going to be doing this a lot. It would certainly be good to get practiced at it.'

  Finally reaching the end of the recounting, Aytin finished with, "And here I am now."

  "And here you are." Trademaster Raleigh nodded and set down his writing implement. He had barely glanced at the paper throughout the story, but even from across the desk it was clearly covered with notes. "So, what's next?"

  Aytin took a deep breath. This was the real reason that he had asked for a meeting. The thing that he and Faelon had taken from a glimmer of a hope to a real plan.

  "The keep on that island. We want to rebuild it."

  "I see." The dragonette across from him ran one hand along an old scar in an unconscious gesture. "Yes, I think I definitely see. And repopulate it with someone besides these wildlings, I take it?"

  "Most of them aren't interested in settling down in one spot." 'Although that might change when Attalee and Rina start talking about Lazon's Rest.' "I'm here to find builders, supplies, settlers, and get whatever permission we need."

  "I'm not sure you understand just how ambitious your goal is."

  "I know I don't. I was hoping you did."

  That managed to draw a small chuckle from the older dragonette. "Not personally, but I probably have a bit better idea. And know people who might be able to help. It will be expensive, though. Thousands of gold."

  "Faelon believed that he could afford it."

  "And," he glanced down at his notes. "You told me that you had a number of things to be sold. Potions, jewelry, weapons, metals. Where did these come from?"

  Aytin thought that he had covered that, but apparently he'd missed the detail. "Some from the brigands. The rest from Faelon's cargo."

  "Hmmm... It would have been easier if you said that it was all recovered from the brigands. Not that it would have really mattered."

  "What?"

  A note of frustration crept into the trademaster's voice. "Any remaining cargo belongs to Faelon or Reed's next of kin. Not a young dragonette who happened to have it in his possession."

  "But I-"

  He was cut off by a sharp hiss. "I thought that Faelon would have discussed this with you. It should have at least occurred to him."

  The dragon had told him a lot of things about how the guild operated, but he hadn't said anything about this. "Faelon gave it to me!" he insisted.

  "And I actually believe you." The trademaster sighed and set down his odd writing implement. "The guild will still have to take possession of the goods while we verify your story and sort out who owns what."

  Now Aytin was confused. "I thought you believed me? What do you mean, verify my story?"

  "I believe you," Trademaster Raleigh said, stressing the pronoun. "I also know Reed's family, and I doubt they'd disagree with Faelon's wishes. As for the rest, the only ones who would end up happy when everything was settled would be the bookkeepers.

  "But, I would also be negligent in my duties to the guild if I took you solely at your word. Or Vesper and Zegel's. Especially if you are going to get access to Faelon's accounts."

  "Oh." Aytin deflated slightly, leaning back into the chair. "Is there anything I can do?"

  "Normally, I would tell you to pay for an expedition to confirm Faelon's wishes. That would be a known reputable crew from the mercenary guild along with a representative from the Free Traders' Bank. Probably someone senior from the actual guild as well."

  "I don't know if I can afford that. Especially not without the cargo." Chartering a dragon and crew was expensive, and he was willing to bet that good mercenaries would be especially pricey in the current conditions. The fancy clothes he had bought suddenly felt like an extravagance after all. "Maybe I could get a loan, or my family-"

  Raleigh cut him off with a raised hand. "I said normally. But were you aware that Faelon and my family have a bit of history?" When Aytin shook his head, the trademaster went on. "My mother commanded the crew that found him all those years ago. After the caves. He told you about that?"

  "He did."

  "Terrible business." Raleigh let out a long, slow breath as he stared off into the distance. "Mother said that she had never seen a dragon like that before. Barely flying, blood and rock dust caking his scales, and refusing to say a word about what happened for days. They thought that they were going to need to hunt down a mind reader until he regained his senses enough to show them the caves.

  "Mother kept an eye on him after that. She introduced him to Ivy, who I am told you have met. I knew him growing up. Served as a member of his crew for a time. It was supposed to be somewhat less dangerous than my mother's profession." He raised his remaining eyeridge and made a show of looking his scarred side up and down.

  "We aren't friends," he continued. "I believe you and Ivy may be the only ones alive who can claim to be one of those. But I have a connection to him. And the guild takes care of our own."

  "So you'll help?"

  He nodded. "The guild will sell the items you returned with. However, we will keep the proceeds in trust. In the meantime, I'll authorize payment for an expedition from guild funds. If, as I expect, they confirm your story then I can release the proceeds and we can speak further about your plans.

  "Is this acceptable?"

  It wasn't the outcome Aytin had hoped for. He hadn't expected things to happen overnight, but it was still a solid week of travel out to the island without any stops along the way. Two or three weeks was far longer than he had wanted to wait.

  But it wasn't a no.

  Far from it. Aytin knew what the expedition would find. One way or another, he would get the help he needed. It would just take a little time.

  "Let's do it."